


What a Boombox Hog

by Tobiyond



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiyond/pseuds/Tobiyond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being saved by the larger member of Overwatch's new Junker recruits, Lucio decides it would be in his best interest to try making them feel like they're part of the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saved

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fanfiction in years, but the muse does what it will.

Lucio knew that he and Roadhog were on the same team. They were sent out to a closed set, one of the first missions he'd gone on with the new rambunctious Junker and his bodyguard, and tasked to protect the private car of some big name movie director. How the two criminals had made their way to Overwatch or what was prompting them to stay was a mystery, but they had definitely gone into this particular mission together. Or so he'd thought. Caught up in defending the car from an unseen Talon agent on the roof, the DJ was completely off guard when the cold steel of a large hook wrapped around his middle and yanked him off his feet. He'd seen Roadhog’s weapon in action once, dragging an opposing foot soldier over to the beast of a man so he could finish them off with a deafening blast from his shotgun. Panic washed over him at the thought.

Adrenaline racing, Lucio raised his weapon, ready to give himself a few moments to act if Hog had gone rogue on them. A large hand gripped the gun before he could even pull the trigger. The force of the hook's pull slammed him into Roadhog just as the burning heat of an explosion engulfed the spot he'd been standing in. A short ways off, he heard the unmistakable laugh of their resident explosives "expert".

"Oi, nice catch Roadie!" Junkrat hobbled into view, flaming hair vibrant against the shaded building he had emerged from. His peg leg smoking as he loaded another bomb into his gun. "Wasn't lookin' ta have frog legs t'night." He called, following up the joke with a high pitched giggle. Lucio would've rolled his eyes if his heart wasn't still trying to beat out of his chest. The sound of his gun's metal creaking brought his attention back to the mass of human he was still leaning against.

If Roadhog had looked intimidating from a distance, he was downright terrifying up close. Too strong, too dirty, way too tall and now, as Lucio craned his neck to look up at him, too quiet. He gave an experimental tug on his weapon, earning himself an annoyed grunt as it was released. A quick glance over showed no real damage save for a small crack in the speaker, but he could fix that when the mission was over. His eyes darted back to the dent in the ground that Junkrat's bomb had made--a dent that could've easily been filled with his blood--and he felt a twinge of guilt for assuming that his teammate had turned against them that quickly.

"Hey, uh, thanks for the save, man." He put on his best smile as he thanked Roadhog, turning a dial on his gun to get them ready to continue escorting the shouting man in their payload. The strong stench of sweat and gasoline mixed with a heavy dusting of soot (that he could only assume had come from the Junker's partner) was making him nauseous. Regardless, he waited until receiving another grunt before skating off, making sure to watch out for any incoming projectiles this time.

\- - - - - - -

"Save some water for the rest of us, huh?" Hana's annoyed voice reached Lucio despite his best efforts to ignore her pounding at the door. He knew he'd been in the shower for at least an hour, but the steam was doing wonders for his tense muscles. The rest of the mission had gone off without any more incidents, but getting jostled around so much definitely left its mark. At least he'd finally gotten every bit of grease off the arm that had collided with Roadhog. It was a lot harder to get out of clothes than skin. Tinkering with his sonic tech had taught him that much. Sighing heavily, he let himself slide down the frosted glass of the shower wall. His leg clunked carelessly against the wall, but he ignored it. No matter how many times he went on missions, having close calls always shook him up. The thought that his song could've ended just like that. . . He closed his eyes. There were bigger things to worry about. Seven foot tall things that he'd made assumptions about without even taking a chance to get to know them. Things that had saved his life.

A new determination in his heart, Lucio adjusted his legs and stood up. A smile graced his face when he heard Hana's call of relief. He turned off the shower and set to drying himself off, staring off in thought. He was going to do what he did best. An effort had been made to befriend almost everyone else in the rag tag group, why not the Junkers? If one of them was willing to save him with hardly two words spoken between them, they couldn't be all that bad. As he gathered up his clothes, he avoided thinking about how he was being saved from the other in the first place. A quick apology was given to the angry teen waiting outside the door, promises of a sneak peek at his newest single sweetening the deal. He needed to get back to his room to plan.


	2. Triggered

Winston eyed Lucio carefully as he asked about the apartment the Junkers were staying in. Most of the team was content to bunk down at Headquarters, but he knew the two former criminals wouldn’t be caught dead there. 

“Is everything alright?” The large ape asked, handing him a slip of paper with the requested information. Worried or not, he wasn’t one to deny any curious inquiries. Lucio started to give him a simple shrug, but knew that wouldn’t do. Winston cared far too much about the entire team, much like he did at times. If he didn’t tell him, it would eat at the leader. He smoothed his braids back and frowned.

“I just want to get to know them, you know?” He started. “If we’re going to be a team, we’ve got to act like one.” He didn’t mention how he felt before Roadhog hooked him out of trouble or what the rest of the team had said, but Winston knew. That much was obvious. His hand clutched Lucio’s shoulder warmly and he nodded. The DJ expected him to say something else, but instead he went back to tinkering with one of his barrier projectors. With that vote of confidence, Lucio entered the address into his phone and took a deep breath. He could do this.

The trip out wasn’t a long one. His skates took him fast enough that he could avoid any small talk by people who might recognize him on the street. Part of him expected the route to lead into one of the grittier sides of town, but once again he felt a twinge of guilt in his gut as he took a side street and ended up in a rather decent looking complex. Of course Overwatch wouldn’t want two of their members living anywhere subpar. No matter where they’d come from. He’d only heard stories about the state of Australia after the Crisis, but it drove his thoughts back to his own home. It had been such a positive place, a good home to grow up in before Vishkar. Had their home been the same way? The question was quickly stored away for a future, heavier conversation. Bringing up someone’s past like that wasn’t usually a good first time topic.

He glanced back down at the scrap of paper. 32 C. That would be around the back. Sure enough, as he rounded the next corner, Roadhog’s bike was carefully tucked away under a tarp. The only telling features were the bright yellow of Junkrat’s sidecar and the presence of real wheels touching the asphalt. It was obvious that they’d at least tried to cover it up, likely to cause less questions from their neighbors, but their door was another story. Even if Lucio hadn’t known the number, the black greasy handprints around the knob would’ve tipped him off. As he sidled up to the door, he tried rehearsing what he was going to say. He wanted to make sure they didn’t think he was a threat or trying to get anything out of them. That seemed to be how they felt about the rest of the team, after all. Maybe he could just start with ‘hi’? He shook his head. Only one way to really find out.

His fist met the hard door, recoiling just a bit at the hot metal. No answer. Again, he knocked, this time pressing his ear to the door and listening. Still nothing. He was sure he could hear someone moving around inside, but whichever one of them it was, they weren’t answering. Right. That was just fine. He could go home and simply try again another day. No worries. His skates had barely moved back to push off when he felt the urge to open the door. It wasn’t a healthy want, he knew that much. Even if the door was unlocked, which it wasn’t, what sort of an introduction would snooping around in their apartment be? Or worse, what if they were simply ignoring him because they were in the middle of something? He’d certainly heard Mercy make a few conclusions about their less than professional relationship. He should definitely go. He should not put his hand back on the door and he really shouldn’t be turning the handle uninvited. Much to his surprise, it opened without a fuss. Cautiously, he inched the door open, sticking his head inside for a quick glance. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn’t it.

Neither of the Junkers were to be seen in the main room. Bits of scrap metal, wires, and odd diagrams covered almost every surface, but other than that the room was well kept. No coatings of dirt and grime over every corner or half singed furniture. Lucio felt his mouth hanging open as he pushed the door open a bit more and moved forward. A stir of movement in the next room caught his eye just as a sickening snap of metal drew his attention downward. 

A trap. Of course there was a trap at the front door. Why wouldn’t there be? This was Junkrat and he placed traps anywhere he feasibly could and some places he couldn’t. Right on cue, the lanky Junker leaned out from the kitchen. His face was mostly a mix of soot and confusion, head tilted slightly from his place. . .on the floor? Lucio decided not to ask, instead kneeling down as best he could to work on dislodging his leg from the trap.

“Shock’s a helluva drug, mate. Awful quiet for a bloke that just got his leg snapped.” The blonde didn’t seem too concerned that he’d caught a fellow team member. A seed of doubt about his entire plan tried to plant itself in Lucio’s mind, but he shook it away. “Ya gotta hit that little green button.” Junkrat called out, pointing towards the bottom of the trap with the hand that wasn’t propping him up. Carefully feeling underneath the metal, Lucio found the button in question and let out a breath of relief as the metal jaws slackened and released him. 

“I’m sorry for barging in like that.” he said, feeling along his leg to gauge what was broken. It wouldn’t be an easy fix, but he’d broken his prosthetics plenty of times trying to get the hang of the Sonic skates. He could repair them from this. Looking back up at one of the men he came to see, he offered an apologetic smile, something that had Junkrat suddenly collapsing the rest of the way to the floor in laughter. 

“Ya know what, mate? We’re good here.” He spoke through tears of laughter. “Never had someone apologize for gettin’ their leg caught in me trap.” Lifting himself back up a bit, the rest of Junkrat’s body slid into view and Lucio saw why he was sitting on the floor. The crude peg leg that he was usually so proud of was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a mismatched crossing of burn scars. “Was hopin’ you were Roadie, but he knows better.” His eyes were drawn down to the leg his intruder was now favoring and he frowned. “You, uh, you ain’t bleedin’ none. Was that all about?” Lucio leaned against the door frame so he could knock his knuckles against the splintered plastic. The hollow sound lit Junkrat’s face up. “Oi! Your leg ain’t real neither.” He seemed excited by that fact, gesturing enthusiastically to the table a little ways in front of the limping DJ. “Tell ya what. You fetch me my leg from the table and I’ll not only forgive ya for bargin’ in, but I’ll help you fix yours, yeah?” Lucio couldn’t argue with that. The alternative was making a hasty retreat and dealing with the backlash when he had to call Mercy to come get him. He hopped forward, picking up the surprisingly heavy limb before sliding into a place near where the Junker was seated. 

“They’ve got lighter metal out there, dude.” He remarked, handing it off to the eager man. Junkrat seemed to ignore the comment, examining the knee joint instead. “Mercy could probably fix you up with something real nice now that you’re a part of the team and all.” That got his attention. Wild orange eyes searched Lucio’s face for something, a bright cackle following.

“And end up with somethin’ I can’t fix myself when I’m out doin’ jobs? No thanks, mate.” The man was self-sufficient. He could respect that. Speaking of which, he rolled up his now tattered pants leg, torn and useless from his struggle with the trap. He’d been hoping the damage was something he could fix without removing it, but the back of his calf was too far gone. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Junkrat watching him and decided he might as well strike up a conversation. That’s what he came out here for, right? Right.


End file.
